Page 67 of After All This Time

noah

She’s standing opposite me, frozen like a beautiful ice sculpture. Her dark brown eyes are staring straight into my soul.

I think I enjoy making Dani nervous, and I don’t know why.

I’m unable to catch my breath with the way she’s looking at me.

“The fridge is fucking cold,” she mutters under her breath.

I close the gap between us. Our lips are so close I can smell her breath, a combination of mint and iced tea.

“What the hell are you?—”

I cut her off before she can finish asking me what I’m doing. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

I hear broken breathing coming out of her mouth as she sucks in her stomach and holds her breath. She blinks her eyes rapidly like a toy trying to reset itself when it malfunctions.

When she releases her breath, her stomach falls back into place. “I need to get stuff out of the fridge, so we can make breakfast.” She pushes at my arm to get me to move.

I put my arms out, elbows bent with my hands up. “Alright. Let me get out of your way, Princess.”

She looks around the kitchen, mouth slightly parting open. She’s taken aback by what I just called her.

Princess.

Because she is one.

She’s always been one.

She takes out the carton of eggs we bought last night along with goat cheese and a loaf of bread. “I know what you’re thinking. ‘Dani, I don’t like goat cheese. Why are you taking it out?’ Because it’s for me. You don’t have to have any.”

“Sit down.”

A confused expression writes itself all over her face. “What?”

“Sit the hell down,” I command as I take her over to the kitchen table. “You’re not making shit. I am. It’s about time someone takes care of you for once.”

She pouts. “People do take care of me.”

“Not compared to the way that you take care of people.” I pause. “How do you want your eggs?”

“Scrambled.”

“Do you put the goat cheese in last?”

She nods. “I can help put?—”

“No.”

“Yes, I put it in last,” she says softly.

“We’re not going to the hospital today,” I blurt out.

“What?”

“You heard me. We’re going to get the fuck out of this house. And we’re going to try and get you inspired to write again.”

“How are we going to do that?”

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